


Ronald and Hermione

by dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap/pseuds/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap
Summary: If Hermione wanted romance in their relationship, Ron would give her romance.(inspired by Romeo & Juliet)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling, except Romeo and Juliet, which belongs to the great William Shakespeare. Verona cookies aren’t mine either. They belong to Pepperidge Farm.

Sometimes Ron didn’t understand Hermione. How could he? They were two different people. While Ron liked to fly brooms and help create pranks for Weasley Wizard Wheezes, Hermione liked to read books and…well, he was pretty sure that was the only thing Hermione ever did. He didn’t really know if his girlfriend had any other hobbies.

 

He turned his head to the left, a small sniffle startling him. His eyes were on Harry who was leaning over several pages of parchment, scratching away word after word about some wizard who had gone mad and attacked a muggle a week ago with what he thought was his wand but really a tree branch.

 

Harry wasn’t sniffling. His eyes were trained on his words, rereading his handwriting to make sure he was spelling everything correctly, nose slightly wrinkled as he worked.

 

Ron turned his head to the right, blue eyes glued to his brown haired girlfriend who had her nose stuck in a book, eyes watering slightly. She sniffled and then hiccupped, turning a page in her battered red paperback.

 

“Are you crying?” he asked, whispering so Harry couldn’t hear him.

 

He didn’t want to interrupt him since Ron was _supposed_ to be filling out the report with him. He had opted instead to just sit back in his chair with his feet up on the table and daydream about his first Hogwarts feast.

 

How he missed the house elves and their delicious drumsticks.

 

“No!” Hermione shouted, shutting her book. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and shuddered slightly. “Yes,” she admitted quietly.

 

Once she admitted she was crying, something went off inside of her. Ron was worried that she had gone mad. He watched as she loudly dropped her head to the table and started to weep openly, holding her book to her chest.

 

Even Harry stopped what he was doing and peered at the two with an arched eyebrow.

 

“Why is she crying?” he asked from the side of his mouth. “What’s wrong?”

 

Hermione sniffled and picked her head up, a small smile on her face. “Oh nothing too serious Harry, nothing too serious. I just…I was reading this play and it’s just so sad.”

 

Ron snaked his hand towards the book and pulled it away from her chest forcefully, holding it out towards Harry. They both checked if the book had traces of dark magic in it. He held it up in the sunlight. The book looked awkward and dirty in their pale pink kitchen.

 

He read the title to himself, _Romeo and Juliet_ , and decided he would weep too if he had to read about a bloke named Romeo.

 

“Looks like you’ve read this a few times,” Harry said, pointing out the battered cover and pages that had come loose from their bind. Ron opened the book and whistled, noticing Hermione’s small scrawl in the margins.

 

“Did you take notes on this thing? It’s practically falling apart.”

 

Hermione blushed and snatched the book from his hands, hugging it towards her chest again. “What?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “ _No_ ,” she said with a laugh, it was really unconvincing to the two who eyed her incredulously. “I’ve read it before…a few times…alright!” she snapped, wavering under their sharp gaze. “I might have taken a few notes on it…it’s always such a heartbreaker.”

 

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked tiredly. “A book broke your heart? That doesn’t sound like a good read to me. Want me to get you _Quidditch_ —“

 

Harry sniggered next to him, papers forgotten as he leaned back in his chair and watched the fight before him unfold.

 

“Ron, it’s a muggle classic,” Hermione said with an annoyed eye roll.

 

She pushed back her chair, making a slight scraping sound on the floor and walked towards the sink. She turned on the tap, not really paying attention to the water that was flowing freely out of it.

 

“Romeo and Juliet is about love and devotion to your partner. It’s about families and—“

 

“Really,” he said, cutting her off and elbowing Harry in the ribs, “I have _Quidditch Through the Ages_ right upstairs—“

 

“Of course you wouldn’t want to read my book,” Hermione shouted loudly over the sound of the rushing water. She reached for a clean glass and filled it with water, turning off the tap and walking back towards the table. “Of course you wouldn’t care about romance. You’re so unromantic.”

 

At this revelation Harry sunk in his chair, trying to fold into himself and make himself disappear. He really didn’t want to be in the room for this sort of fight. Somehow they always ended up blaming everything on him. Their motto seemed to be ‘when in doubt, blame Harry.’ He didn’t know how or why it began.

 

Ron gaped at Hermione and turned his head towards Harry who gave him a horrified glance. Ron huffed and turned away from him, mumbling something under his breath that sounded like, ‘some friend you are.’

 

“I…I drew pictures in my book,” he said to her. “Does your book have pictures?” he asked.

 

Hermione scowled. “That’s besides the point. I wish you were like Romeo…”

 

Ron groaned. He liked to think he was plenty romantic. Why just the other day he had burped out ‘I love you,’ to her, that took _skill_. He was sure Harry didn’t do anything like that for Ginny and his sister still giggled about him like she was a little schoolgirl.

 

He grabbed the book, flipping it over with Harry peering over his shoulder. He couldn’t make out the words. Didn’t understand them. What did thou mean? Art? Were they making an art project? That’s what she was crying about? He arched his eyebrow and stared at her.

 

“Hermione, Hermione, where…bloody hell, is this in English?” he asked, shoving the book into Harry’s hands.

 

He snorted but eagerly opened to page one, scanning the words. Ron knew if _he_ didn’t understand it, Harry wouldn’t. Harry wasn’t dumb but he was the one that was dating the bookworm.

 

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” she advised, shaking her finger at him.

 

“How could I judge this book by its cover? Doesn’t even give any of the juicy bits away. No picture of an oily man or a woman that has her breast bulging—“

 

Hermione’s cheeks turned pink and she gaped at him, hands shaking from fury. “I’m not reading _smut_!” she shouted. “It’s a muggle classic about _love_.

 

Ron scoffed and nudged Harry who had read up to page fifteen at this point, mumbling under his breath about someone named ‘Mercutio.’

 

Sounded like a disease to Ron.

 

“Love and smut go hand in hand, right, Harry?” He shrugged his shoulders, not paying attention to the question. “You can’t have one without the other.”

 

“You’re disgusting,” Hermione murmured, walking back to the sink and refilling her glass. Ron watched eagerly as some of the water trickled from her mouth and down her chin, dripping onto her white blouse.

 

If only Harry wasn’t around. He really didn’t know why Harry had to constantly visit them.

 

Then again it was Ron who was always inviting him for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He even asked him to sleep over some nights and the two ate snackboxes and made fun of people from Hogwarts.

 

“At least I get some. Do,” he smacked Harry’s hand so he could look at the title of the book again, “Romeo and Juliet?”

 

Harry scowled. “Read the book yourself,” he said, flipping the page. He was already in act two, shaking his leg eagerly as the scenes began to unfold in his head. “Or can you not read?”

 

“Hogwarts education is rather questionable,” Ron mused, scratching his chin. “But I _am_ an Auror. A little book like this isn’t going to change my life or make me cry like a woman. Do you seriously think I’m going to be moved by…” he peered over Harry’s shoulder, ignoring the shove Harry gave him and the command to ‘stop breathing’ his air. It was Ron’s house. It was Ron’s air. “…these words. This is how Great-Aunt Muriel was raised to speak. Who says things like this? Thou…art…are they making a painting?”

 

“You’re an idiot and you have no consideration for my muggle life.”

 

Ron put his hand up to cut her off. He gave a lot of consideration to her muggle life. She was constantly giving him her own ‘muggle studies’ lessons. He had lost count of the numerous times she had made him go to the muggle library.

 

“I embraced your life, didn’t I?”

 

The way she had her arms crossed against her chest and the way she tapped her foot on the ground impatiently made him think of his mother. He sat up in his chair and folded his hands, giving her what he hoped was an innocent smile.

 

“Hermione, you’re a witch. The brightest witch I have ever known.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “And what are you then?”

 

He shrugged. “Your feeble servant?” When she didn’t laugh he felt sweat start to form in his armpits. She always had this unwavering gaze about her that made him feel like he was up to no good and always wrong.

 

According to Ron he was always right. Hermione had book smarts while he had street smarts.

 

“I’m also delicious,” he said with a wink. Harry cursed and closed the book, smacking it down on the table.

 

“Should I leave?” he asked, they both ignored him.

 

“I make your toes curl,” Ron continued with a grin. Harry planted his hands on his ears and groaned.

 

“Ron!” Hermione shouted, turning a deeper shade of red. She placed her glass shakily on the counter and then her hands on her hips. “You never take anything seriously. Everything is a joke to you. We have no romance. We have no…no…”

 

“I’m romantic! Who brought you those chocolate hearts the other day?”

 

“You _know_ I don’t like chocolate. Besides, you ate them _all_.”

 

Ron grinned at the memory and patted his stomach. They were rather delicious but he knew that wasn’t the point right now.

 

“But it’s the thought that counts.”

 

Hermione sighed and walked towards the kitchen door, turning around for a second, her hand on the doorknob. “Sometimes I wish you tried a little harder,” she admitted quietly. “That you were like Romeo…”

 

With her sentence up in the air she turned the knob and opened the door, walking out into the sunlight. The door shut behind her and Ron groaned loudly, Harry patted him on the back.

 

“What do I do?” he asked, hitting his head on the table.

 

Harry thought for a moment and then slid the book towards Ron’s head. “Read the book mate,” he advised, tapping the cover.

 

Ron groaned. “I thought I finished school. I don’t like to read. It’s going to be my downfall, isn’t it? My only flaw.”

 

Harry scoffed. “Yes, because that’s your _only_ flaw.”

 

He ignored Harry, running his hands through his hair. “He’s a fictional character! What am I?” he asked, pulling at his hair.

 

“You’re a character alright,” Harry murmured, opening the book to a random page. He secretly wanted to know what happened next but a different story was playing out in Ron’s kitchen.

 

“I’m a person,” snapped Ron, glaring at him.

 

“Just read the book mate.”

 

“Do you say anything else? Honestly, whose mate are you? Why don’t you ever agree with—“

 

“Ron, _read the book_ ,” he commanded, tapping one of the ripped pages. Ron glowered at him and grabbed the book, staring at the words with a forlorn expression.

 

“Well,” he whispered, “you don’t have to yell at me.” Harry sighed and mumbled an apology. His green eyes shined brightly for a moment and a grin appeared on his mouth.

 

“Ron, I think I know how to help you. Come on.”

 

-x-

 

Ron didn’t know if he should have been thankful or terrified. There were really no words that came to mind as he sat on his orange settee, watching as Harry tinkered with Hermione’s—no, _their_ television—and pressed buttons on another machine Ron didn’t quite understand or know what to call.

 

A VEE _BEE_ AREEE, or something like that. He didn’t ask for an explanation from Harry since the _thing_ was in _his_ house but he thanked Merlin, Godric and Dumbledore that Harry hadn’t asked him to rush off to the muggle library with him. The last time Ron had ventured in there by himself he had ended up making a fool out of himself and almost wept on the librarian.

 

“Look, you won’t even have to read the book,” Harry said, pointing to the television. Ron watched in amazement as the words ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ appeared on the screen. Did the television _know_ he needed to know about the book? _Sometimes_ muggles amazed him.

 

“What is this, a program? Has this been here all the time? Do they do this with all books?” he asked. His eyes gleamed with excitement. He would never have to listen to Hermione drone on about muggle literature again. He could just pop something in the VEE _BEE_ AREEE and then he would know all the answers! “You’re a genius Harry!” he shouted, patting the empty seat next to him.

 

“A simple abridged version of the book. Shouldn’t be too bad.”

 

Ron shushed him as the scene started. “Come on! Let’s get to the action! I want to meet this Romeo bloke!” he shouted at the television screen. Instead of Romeo appearing it was just a regular servant man, droning on and on about houses and Verona.

 

He turned his head towards Harry, watching the way he intently stared at the screen, miming the words to himself.

 

Ron turned his head back to the screen and stared at it tiredly. There were a few fight scenes, lots of yelling and he didn’t understand why Hermione wished he was like Romeo. Romeo didn’t have a nice head of red hair. Oh no, Romeo was a brunette with slicked back hair and whined too much. Ron _didn’t_ whine. Ron _didn’t_ complain. Ron didn’t speak to himself and go on and on about how beautiful Hermione was and how the sun shined on her giving her a nice healthy looking glow.

 

He was _not_ a pansy like this Romeo bloke. If Hermione wanted to date a pansy she should have gone after Draco Malfoy.

 

Romeo and Juliet were boring Ron. He didn’t understand the language and there weren’t any _revealing_ scenes.

 

Ron scoffed to himself. He would have made a better Romeo. He closed his eyes as music began to play, a masquerade ball unfolding on the screen. He could see it all in his mind...

 

-x-

 

_“Do you think they’ll recognize us?” Ron whispered to Harry. They were both wearing masks on their eyes. If anyone looked close enough they would have recognized the two by their green and blue eyes._

_“Sssh,” whispered Harry. “We must blend in! What a prank this will be. Hark, the music is starting! Here comes Malfoy now!”_

_Lucius Malfoy appeared wearing heavy black robes lined with gold and slicked back white hair. The room became silent as he took his first step down the stairs, accompanied by his son, Draco, his wife Narcissa and their good family friend, Hermione Granger._

_The Grangers and the Malfoy’s had become close once the Second War had ended, once the Malfoy’s decided that all witches and wizards, no matter their blood status were friends instead of foes. All except for the Potter family and their ally, the Weasley’s. A terrible feud had been going on for years between the Weasley and Malfoy family but Ron secretly no longer cared._

_He thought it was foolish and did not want to fight with someone so beautiful._

_“Welcome!” Lucius’s voice boomed throughout the ballroom. “Gentlemen prepare to dance with all these beautiful ladies. Those that don’t dance I swear it is because they wear so much make-up, really when you see them for what they are later, they will have nasty boils on their skin!” Everyone laughed at the joke, more nervously than anything. “Come, come! Let the music begin!” He swished his wand in the air and the sound of violins started to fill the room._

_Harry had slipped away while Ron found a house elf holding up a silver platter with food._

_“Oi! House elf, have you ever seen someone more beautiful?” he asked, not waiting for the elf to respond. “Her eyes shine brightly like…like…the sun and her hair is…well, shines brightly like….the sun too. She must take in a lot of sun,” he murmured with a blush._

_“Missus—“_

_“Ssh,” Ron commanded softly. His eyes were trained on Hermione whose rich red dress robes sparkled like the sun (he really needed to come up with something else to compare her to). “You’re ruining the moment. Scurry along.”_

_“I have never seen someone so beautiful before,” he said to himself._

_It was like everyone else had vanished from the room and all he could see was her. Never had he felt more alive. He shakily walked towards her and placed his hand out, grabbing her small one with his large one._

_“You are like a potion that when drunk, bursts sunlight out of my body.”_

_Well, she didn’t know all about his previous sun comparisons. One more wouldn’t hurt him. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her pink lips against his own dried and cracked ones._

_She smiled sweetly at him and then leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “RONALD!” she shrieked._

_Ron gulped and took a step away from her. Her brown hair turned into fire and the whites in her eyes disappeared. Hermione’s body started to transform into that of a dragon._

_-x-_

Ron jumped, opened his eyes and cursed to himself. He could never understand why Hermione always turned into a fire-breathing dragon in his dreams. He shook his head and blinked, trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

 

Harry was sitting next to him with a bowl of popcorn, eyes glued to the television as Juliet’s head popped out of a window. Before Juliet or Romeo could say anything, Ron heard the front door open and slam shut loudly, making both him and Harry jump.

 

Harry rushed forward, turned the television off and then gave Ron a grim smile. He disappeared on the spot with a loud crack.

 

Ron waited for Hermione to enter the room but he heard her loud footsteps as she walked up the stairs. The book was laying where Harry had been seated moments before. He grabbed it and flipped to the first page, a meow breaking his thoughts.

 

“Oi,” he muttered, glaring at Crookshanks who bared his teeth at him, “what are you looking at Crookshanks?” he questioned, as the cat hissed at him, cocking his head to the side. “Should be two families ripped apart by their damn animal. Scratches me to shreds. Shoo!”

 

He stood up and turned the television back on, watching as Juliet talked to herself like a mad woman and Romeo listened in on her private conversation like some pervert.

 

Well, if it was Romeo that Hermione wanted, it was Romeo that Hermione was going to get.

 

Ron knew what he had to do.

 

-x-

 

He could see that a light was on in their bedroom as he bent down in the dark, the only light for him was coming from the tip of his wand. He used his free hand to rummage around on the ground, looking for a pebble. His hand gripped on something and he cursed when it moved. He yelped, shaking his hand and hoped to Merlin that it wasn’t a spider as he searched again for a rock.

 

Once his hand gripped one he levitated it to the white bedroom window and knocked it on the closed window, three times. He waited patiently for Hermione to appear at the window and peep her large head out.

 

He knocked three more times and grumbled to himself when she didn’t appear. Ron pointed his wand to his neck, muttered ‘Sonorous,’ and then coughed, preparing himself for what he was about to do.

 

“Hermione!” he shouted. “Hermione, Hermione, the stars…brightness,” he stumbled over his words and cursed in his head. He really should have written the entire speech down. He had a small piece of crumpled parchment in his left pocket with random words he had scribbled down but he really didn’t know if they were useful.

 

At the noise, Hermione finally appeared at the window, opening it up and pushing her head out. A scowl was on her face as she glared at him.

 

Ron gulped nervously.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing! Are you drunk?” she questioned, shaking her fist at him.

 

Ron shook his head and dramatically fell to his knees. “Juliet!” he shouted. “My Juliet!” What had Romeo said again? Well, he would just have to come up with something on his own. He pulled out his paper and tried to read the words he had written down. “Pale you are maiden, speak thy words…err…twinkling stars…twinkle…birds sing at your beauty?”

 

“Come inside Ron, now!” she shouted.

 

He ignored her command and squinted at his parchment again. “Let me touch your cheeks, no,” he whispered to himself, “that doesn’t sound right. A bit forward actually. Uhm,” he tried to think of what to say next. Maybe he was dreaming again. Maybe she would turn into a fire-breathing dragon and he would wake-up from this ridiculous nightmare. “Art, thou, deny…something, something…why must you be a Granger? Let’s change your name?” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“Ron, are you…are you asking me to marry you?”

 

Ron turned a deep shade of red. He was thankful it was dark outside. He leapt from his knees to his feet, not wanting to give her anymore false impressions.

 

“Who is this Ron? Fie, you wench! I am Romeo. I am here to...” Why had Romeo appeared by her window again? To disrobe her? Something about love and a chastity belt? Cookies?

 

He looked up, staring at Hermione and then the outside of their white house. Their bedroom was on the second floor, there was no balcony but Ron knew he was better than Romeo. He was a wizard. He had magic! He could climb the side of his house with or without any vines or a ladder.

 

He summoned his broom and quickly mounted it, flying up to their bedroom window. Hermione’s hair was sticking up all over her head and she was wearing a blue nightdress with pink flowers that covered her from her neck all the way down to her toes.

 

She had a scowl on her face and her arms crossed against her chest. “What is wrong with you?” she asked quietly.

 

He shrugged. “I was just trying to impress you. You said you wanted a little bit more romance and wanted me to be like Romeo. Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

 

“So what am I? Juliet?”

 

Ron nodded. “You’ve always been Juliet.” Hermione smiled, all traces of anger gone from her face. “I love you Her— _Juliet_.”

 

“I love you too Romeo. So, you weren’t proposing to me?” she asked, biting her bottom lip. Now that, _that_ was pushing it.

 

Ron gulped and shakily held onto his broom handle. “What’s that? I hear a noise. I must go! Like a bird…I will fly away before someone sees me.”

 

He flew off into the darkness, a shrill cry of ‘Ronald!’ following him into the night.


End file.
